


Cataclysm

by NotMyBestIdea



Series: Sterek Trope Reversal 2018 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sterek Trope Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 16:17:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotMyBestIdea/pseuds/NotMyBestIdea
Summary: The world had ended; it was just waiting for them to catch up.





	Cataclysm

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 4 of imagine-sterek's Sterek Trope Reversal 2018 - change of scenery

The city was a ruin.

Stiles didn’t remember what its name was - had actively chosen to forget what it had been called. A name would conjure up all sorts of memories, and it was easier if he didn’t remember how things used to be.

They were hours away from Beacon Hills - home. It was just him and Derek; the loss of two people wouldn’t be as hard on the community if they didn’t make it back, no matter how much they’d be missed personally. As it was, they had strict instructions to get back home safely, and it wasn’t just because they were driving one of the community’s few working vehicles.

They were on a mission, looking for supplies that were impossible to find closer to home. There was no guarantee they’d find what they’re looking for, though. The Cataclysm had not only wiped out significant portions of the world population, it had destroyed...no, transformed the physical world. Great swathes of the Midwest and Canada had turned to glass - every living thing, every building, even the land itself, going miles deep. To the south, everything had liquefied, forever altering the geography of the world and combining the Pacific and the Atlantic - the parts that were still water - into a vast ocean that completely separated North and South America. The news from the rest of the world hadn’t been any better before communications were lost.

On the west coast of the United States, the Cataclysm had affected smaller areas, though with the same devastating effect. The city before them - and the land surrounding it - had turned completely to stone. They would get nothing of use from it.

“Should we go on?” Stiles asked. It was the first time either of them had spoken that day.

Derek nodded. “We have enough gas to go a little longer. Beacon Hills can’t be the only place that made it through.”

The Cataclysm had probably been caused by magic - what else could have created such widespread and varied devastation, defying all natural laws? How else could Beacon Hills, home to a nemeton, have survived with so little damage? There had to be other similar pockets of life. Whether any of those places were within their reach was another story altogether. Hopefully, there were other people out there, rebuilding like they were. They hadn’t found anyone yet.

But they weren’t actively searching for survivors. There were other things they needed: clothing, medicines, books. Seeds to expand the communal gardens. Nails and screws and building tools. Anything that might be useful.

Instead they had found stone cities and sandy wastes and even a miles-wide pit of molten lava. It was enough to make anyone lose hope.

They drove on, following the road when there was one. Stiles was in the passenger seat, staring out his window at the empty sky.

“Derek, stop,” he yelled suddenly. “Look!”

The vehicle came to an abrupt stop. Stiles scrambled out and ran a few yards before stopping to point. “Look!” he said again.

Derek got out and looked as commanded. In the distance there was the familiar silhouette of a bird soaring on the wind - the first sign of life they’d seen since leaving Beacon Hills.

“How do we follow it? We need to figure out where it came from. Let’s go.” Stiles hurried back to the vehicle, jumping in and slamming the door. “Derek, c’mon!”

Derek got back in without a word and they took off, still following the road even though it didn’t take them in the bird’s direction - they couldn’t safely go off-road without getting stuck or damaging the vehicle. Fortunately for Stiles’ nerves, they came upon a crossroad that would take them where they wanted to go. They’d lost sight of the bird, but the unmistakable line of trees that appeared on the horizon gave them hope.

As they got closer, the trees grew larger and larger, their dense foliage casting the ground below into shadow. At the edge of the forest sat a deserted truck stop. Derek and Stiles exchanged a look, and Derek pulled into the parking lot.

Stiles tilted his head in a question. Derek looked around, listening carefully, but all he heard was the small sounds of wildlife and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. He shook his head in answer.

The door to the truck stop was unlocked. Inside, it was dim and cool. Its shelves were neat and orderly… and full. If anyone in the area had survived, they hadn’t found this place to loot it. Not everything in the store was useful - long-expired junk food was no good to them - but there was plenty that was, including a tiny clothing section with novelty t-shirts meant for tourists. Stiles grabbed a large shirt that said ‘Got Wood?’ with a picture of a redwood and put it on over his own threadbare t-shirt, then clapped his hands together. “All right, let’s figure out what we want to take and how we’re going to pack it all up.”

They worked quickly and efficiently, the result of years of scavenging throughout Beacon Hills and the surrounding area. By nightfall, they had a pile of essentials packed in the back of their vehicle (with a few not-so-essentials like comic books, puzzle books, and skin mags tucked away here and there), with room to add more in the morning.

The forest at night was eerie, as forests usually were, but there was a strange feeling of waiting that made both of them uneasy. They set up their tent on the far side of the truck stop, away from the forest, and crawled into their shared sleeping bag, Derek between Stiles and the zippered opening of the tent. Stiles wrapped himself around Derek and went to sleep, trusting Derek to wake him if anyone approached them during the night.

They slept until morning without incident, woken only by birdsong at dawn. They climbed out of the tent and stretched - sleeping on the ground, even with a camping mat, was hard on the body. When Stiles turned back to the tent, he stopped dead.

“Derek?”

“Hmm?” Derek turned and immediately saw what Stiles had discovered.

On the wall of the truck stop, someone had painted a message.  _ The boundaries are thin here. Follow if you can. _ Next to the words was the Hale triskelion. 

The message hadn’t been there the night before.

“It’s some sort of trick,” Derek said. “A trap.”

“Maybe. It was obviously put there by magic, since it didn’t wake you up. Probably by the person on the other side of this boundary they’re talking about.”

Derek looked sharply at Stiles. “You aren’t thinking of crossing-”

“Of course not. One, who knows where I’d end up. Alternate dimension? Mirror universe? Two, I don’t know if I could get back. I’d never leave you or the others like that. And three, I don’t know how to cross over in the first place. Thin boundaries isn’t a lot to go on.”

“But? There’s always a but with you.”

“Usually yours.” Stiles waggled his brows. Derek rolled his eyes and Stiles sighed. “I don’t think we should dismiss this too quickly, that’s all. When we get home, I’ll look through Deaton’s books. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“We have to be realistic. We can’t survive much longer the way things are. If there’s a safe place for us all to escape to…” He shrugged.

“But we don’t know that.”

Stiles grabbed his arm. “This is hope for the future, Derek, and that’s more than we had before.”

Derek shook his head. “I’m thinking about the now. We need to finish packing up the supplies and head home.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ve got some time to figure this out.”

Derek packed up the tent, ignoring the writing on the wall. Stiles continued to study it for a while before helping. Maybe the message was a trap. Maybe crossing the mysterious boundary would lead to certain death. That just made it a choice between a possible quick death in a strange place or a guaranteed slow one where they were. 

Stiles was still mulling it over as they drove away with everything they could carry. He hoped they would come back, that they hadn’t lost their chance. He’d resigned himself to dying alongside his loved ones, but now he hoped that he might be able to live alongside them.


End file.
